


The Sweetest Taste

by habitatfordeanwinchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Destiel Christmas Minibang, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hot Chocolate, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 04:38:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5443592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/habitatfordeanwinchester/pseuds/habitatfordeanwinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I assure you that I can feel and taste things just as well as you can, if not more so.” </p><p> “You’ve spent centuries as a, what do you call it, fucking celestial wavelength? You can’t possibly tell me that you think you’re a greater authority on hot chocolate.”</p><p>***</p><p>In which Dean and Castiel argue about hot chocolate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sweetest Taste

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for day 19 of [The Destiel Christmas Minibang](http://destielchristmasminibang.tumblr.com/). My prompt was Hot Chocolate. This is canon-divergent from 11x05.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m making hot chocolate. Would you like some?” Cas glances up from his work and tries not to look too long at Dean, who is at the threshold of the bunkers kitchen dressed in nothing but his favorite blue-grey robe and a pair of boxers. It’s getting late, rapidly approaching midnight, and Dean is bathed in the warm red and gold glow of the Christmas lights he and Sam helped hang last week. They’re between cases, and Dean’s hair is still slightly damp from a recent shower. He looks beautiful, and miraculously unharmed for once, having just recently let Castiel heal him. His calves poke out from under his robe and the skin there is smooth and unblemished.

With a herculean effort, Castiel forces himself to look away. The hardest part about being human, he thinks, is this new voice he has in the back of his mind. The one that tells him he’s staring too much or his hands are lingering too long. He knows it’s a voice that didn’t exist before he met Dean, and while his adherence to its rules tends to make Dean more comfortable, it also makes Castiel sad in a way he can’t quite articulate.

Dean looks at Castiel like he has completely lost his mind. In fact, he looks so offended that Castiel actually pauses mid-motion, concerned.

“Are you really about to put hot water in that? You can’t be serious!” Dean’s attention focuses on the hot kettle in Castiel’s hand, hovering suspended over his favorite mug.

Castiel furrows his brow, brilliant blue eyes taking in the disgusted expression on his hunter’s face. Dean makes a small, put-upon little noise and marches barefoot across the cold bunker floors to snatch the kettle from his hands.

Castiel frowns, but Dean is only getting started. He leaves the kettle on the stove and stalks over to the refrigerator, where he pulls out a fresh, unopened jug of 2% milk. He proceeds to portion the milk out into one of the little microwave safe cups from the top shelf and places it in the microwave for fifteen seconds.

“In this family, we make hot chocolate with milk, like god intended.” He proclaims, and Castiel thinks he can see the barest hint of a flush on Dean’s cheeks.

While he appreciates being considered part of the family, he has to disagree with Dean. Cas has been making his own hot chocolate for weeks now. Sam and Dean still aren’t quite comfortable bringing him out with them on hunts, even though he’s insisted on going on a few with very little repercussion. Given all the time he’s spent making his own drinks, he resents that Dean thinks he can just waltz in and change things around. He likes his hot chocolate system. He thinks he’s been doing it long enough to officially call it a ‘system’. They keep the bunker well stocked with single serve hot chocolate packets. (Dean pretends like he isn’t affected by the holidays, but even Cas has noticed that he’s started substituting his coffee for hot chocolate on occasion.)

He frowns. “The packet clearly says to heat water, Dean.”

“Well, _I’m_ telling you that it’s wrong and you’re missing out. It’s better with milk. It’s a much sweeter taste. Now, I understand that maybe you can’t be blamed for this, given the whole angel thing, but really you ju-“

“Regaining my grace has not affected my sense of taste.” Castiel says archly, moving to pour his own hot water anyway.

“You used to tell us all the time that when you were an angel you couldn’t taste or feel things properly! Why should that be any different now?”

Castiel shrugs. They’ve avoided talking about it until now. The big question of what exactly he is. He has his grace but he can’t get into heaven. His body, and he knows for certain now, it is _his_ body, has fully recovered from Rowena’s spell, although he wishes he could say as much for his wings. They’ve been improving steadily, but he still can’t quite fly. He’s simply stuck in a sort of angelic purgatory where he isn’t quite man, but he certainly isn’t all angel. He knows this as simply as he knows he needs to draw breath; knows it because angels aren’t supposed to look at the stubborn set of their best friend’s mouth and want to kiss away the wrongful conviction.

“I assure you that I can feel and taste things just as well as you can, if not more so.”

“You’ve spent centuries as a, what do you call it, fucking celestial wavelength? You can’t possibly tell me that you think you’re a greater authority on hot chocolate.”

“Whatever I may have been, I can still tell you what tastes good.” Castiel isn’t sure when Dean moved away from the microwave to step closer, but he’s barely two feet away now and Castiel can smell the shampoo he used. (Dean likes the 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner, and it always leaves him smelling faintly of mint and coconut). He tightens his grip on the ceramic handle of his mug as if to ground himself, like if he gets too drunk on Dean he’s liable to just float away.

“You can tell me what you think tastes good, but how can I be sure you really understand the nuances of this complex flavor palette?”

“Because I do.”

“Cas, just admit that you’re not sur-“

“Dean, I promise you I can taste the difference and I know which I prefer.” It’s in this moment that Castiel realizes this might be what Charlie called “flirting”. They’re arguing sure, but their tones are light and their topic is silly, and God help him, it’s a little bit fun. When he’s engrossed in verbal repartee like this, Dean doesn’t spare a single thought toward personal space, and Castiel finds that he kind of likes that.

It’s all laughing tones and pure giddy excitement, the kind that bubbles and wells up inside like helium. It reminds him vaguely of the times when his grace was at its most powerful, like having a body is the sole limiting factor to his joy. They’re speaking faster than ever, the back and forth moving so quickly it almost feels scripted.

It hits him suddenly and unshakably.

This kind of fighting is _fun._

They bicker for a few moments more. Castiel wonders if Dean even realizes that he’s smiling. Eventually they come full circle. It’s a standoff. Cas insists his sense of taste is superior.

“Prove it!” Dean says, and his lips move into that stubborn jut again. Castiel can feel the heat coming from him, can see the gold underneath the green of his eyes.

“Kiss me.” Cas says.

He doesn’t expect to say it, but their banter had been so rapid that he hadn’t even given it much thought. It’s like one of those negotiations he saw in the car commercials last night when Dean sat him down to watch Fight Club on broadcast television.

In the split second that it takes for the words to leave his mouth and hit Dean’s ears, Castiel begins to devise a myriad of ways he could defuse the situation. He could simply claim that he settled on a ridiculous interjection so Dean would back off, he could plead temporary insanity since he’d been denied his nightly hot chocolate. He’s still devising ways to take back his command when Dean leans forward and gently presses their lips together.

Cas lets out a small disbelieving breath and releases the mug back on to the counter before he lets his mind go quiet. Dean cradles his cheek in one hand and kisses him soft and slow. His lips are chapped, but Castiel’s are too and despite that, this is still the most delightful feeling he’s ever known. It is a rapture. It is mesmerizing.

He’s been kissed before, but he’s never cared about his partner the way he cares about Dean. He lets out a pleased little hum and deepens the kiss, his hand settling naturally against the side of Dean’s neck. He strokes his thumb slow and steady over the rapidly thrumming pulse he finds there, and Dean offers up a broken little noise.

This is all the opening Cas needs to slip his tongue into Dean’s mouth. He’s tentative and primarily uses quick soft licks. Dean seems to like it because he moves one hand to Castiel’s waist and tugs them closer together. The taste of _Dean_ blooms over his tongue like a holy homecoming and he notices himself taking deep breaths. He isn’t sure if it’s to calm himself or to drink in as much of Dean as he can before this magical, pure thing is ripped from him.

He shifts his hand from Dean’s neck to thread through his short hair. It’s still damp, but soft against the palm of his hand, and giving it a gentle tug earns him another one of those delicious moans. His heart pounds beneath tattooed ribs but after a long minute they finally pull away, as if returning to their bodies at exactly the same time.

Dean’s eyes are wide and Castiel thinks he might see a little bit of fear there. He’s not the angel he used to be, but he can hear Dean’s heart pounding.

He decides to save them both any awkwardness and blurts gracelessly, “This morning you added approximately .25 ounces of hazelnut creamer to your coffee. You had a bacon cheeseburger for lunch and regular Coke. You ordered the diet, but I think the waitress must have gotten mixed up. I can taste mint in your mouth, which means that you’ve been using Sam’s toothpaste. I take it you didn’t actually like the cinnamon flavored one?”

Dean huffs a nervous laugh. “Okay, listen, the cinnamon one was on special and just….just don’t tell Sam he was right, okay?”

He hasn’t taken a single step back, so close that they’re practically sharing breaths. Castiel can tell that Dean’s just as affected by this as he is because normally he’d be throwing a fit over admitting Sam was right about the toothpaste.

Cas decides to take a chance, because he’s pretty sure if they back away now, if they don’t talk about this and simply retire to their respective rooms, he’s never going to get another chance. He isn’t sure what to say yet, so he says something he knows will buy him some time.

“I told you I had a better sense of taste.”

Dean sniffs, and for the first time Castiel notices that his hand is still firmly gripping his hip. “Freakish angelic powers still don’t mean that you know better than I do.”

Castiel rolls his eyes, and he sees Dean follows the motion. “I know many things that might surprise you, Dean Winchester.”

Dean raises an eyebrow.

“I know it was you, not Sam, who kept buying Oreos for me when I was still recovering from Rowena’s spell. I know that you pretend to hate the holidays, but when we were at the grocery store I saw you looking at the Christmas trees. I know that when you taste hot chocolate with water you’ll prefer it,” Cas swallows and leans closer. This is it, the big finish. “And most of all, I know you want to kiss me again.”

Dean snorts. “Well, three out of four ain’t bad.”

And with that, he kisses Castiel again. He would never admit it, but it’s even sweeter than hot chocolate with milk.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I just really wanted to write some unrepentant emotional fluff. Thanks so much to [padaleckhi](http://padaleckhi.tumblr.com) for the beta help!
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr](http://habitatfordeanwinchester.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/heatherkcassady). This fic also has a Tumblr post which you can reblog [here](http://habitatfordeanwinchester.tumblr.com/post/135353924372/the-sweetest-taste-ao3-prompt-hot-chocolate) if you were so inclined. Thanks for reading!


End file.
